Chapter 2

Devastation

Grievous sat quietly in the dropship as it approached the planet. The droids around him stood on edge and at attention as they always did. His bodyguards formed a tight semi-circle around their master, while the pilots made sure their arrival into the atmosphere remained smooth and steady.

He resolved that this wouldn't take long. Calling it a battle would be something of an overstatement. His strategy was without flaw, and he knew it. He had fought the Huk far too much to not know their every move, their every strategy, and their every weakness. He was their superior in every way, even before his reconstruction. But for all his genius and courage, the Huk had pinned his weaknesses. Before, the Huk had relied upon the fact that his Izvoshra were technologically impaired. They crutched on their guerilla tactics. They needed their stinking Jedi to fight their battles for them.

Now he had an army equipped with the best weaponry money could buy, he had the advantage of surprise, and most importantly, there would be no Jedi to interfere this time. "This time," Grievous thought to himself "I will have my justice. And every single Huk on that planet is going to pay with their lives."

His communicator activated and the voice of one of his sergeants rang through the speaker. "Sir, we've landed our forces in the jungle and are creating a perimeter just as you commanded."

Grievous chuckled. "Good, good. Now use your incendiary weapons to clear a path to the capital. You will find resistance to be minimal to non-existent. When you reach the city, the population will be contained in the ornate building at its center. Hold them there until I arrive. Crush any settlements or villages you encounter along the way. Show them no mercy!"

"Roger, roger, general!" the droid squawked before the communicator buzzed out.

Grievous sat up from his chair. If he still had a mouth, it would be smiling right now. As he walked across the floor of the ship and picked up his equipment, he couldn't help but pity the poor Huk. They had no way of knowing. They had no defenses competent enough to even hold him back now. It was going to be a massacre. For a moment, he actually considered calling off the attack.

But almost as quick as it left, the rage returned to him. How dare they assault his planet, enslave his people? And they got away with it all. After every parent killed, every child abducted, and every friend lost forever, they were still labeled as the innocent. They were little more than animals to him. And he was going to slaughter them like animals.

His magnaguard spoke up behind him. "Master," the droid said in a garbled, scratchy, mechanical voice, "Is it not questionable to attack a planet on a holy day?"

Grievous spun around and shot his elite a dirty glance. "An excellent question, 105," he said before he coughed. "When we get down there, you can ask the Huk themselves!" he shouted.

As the ship entered the atmosphere, he looked out to the planet below. Already he could see his troops cutting through the forests, in a

massive fiery circle.

Qymaen ran hurriedly through the underbrush, going as fast as his little legs would carry him. He had been running for close to ten minutes, and had to have covered over a mile, but it still wasn't far enough. "Have…to…keep…running," he panted as he came to a slow halt.

The four-year-old Kaleesh panted and gasped for air as he hunched over in exhaustion. He was so tired, but the fear outweighed everything else. The Huk had been harassing his people for quite some time (perhaps even before his birth, but he could never be too sure) but they never came in such force, and on a day like this.

He looked around him. He could see nothing but the green leaves and brown trunks of the trees around him, although he knew that the rainforest canopy sheltered him from much more disturbing sights. "How could this have happened?" he thought.

It was supposed to have been a joyous day, for celebration and reverence. It was his grandmother's feast day. So ferociously and so forcefully did she fight in the Bitthævrian war that the very gods themselves allowed her to join their ranks upon her death. Everyone on Kalee was celebrating in honor of this latest addition to their heavenly pantheon when the Huk arrived en masse. Knowing that the day was a day of worship for the Kaleesh, they attacked without fear of organized retaliation. Using their more advanced weaponry, they launched a full-scale attack on several of the sacred temples and their surrounding villages.

Qymaen was partaking in the celebration with his mother and siblings when his father burst into the room. "Hurry!" he screamed in a panic as he kicked in the door and ran to Qymaen's mother. "Beloved, hide the young ones and fetch your spear! They're coming!"

They bolted around the house with six of Qymaen's oldest brothers and sisters gathering all the blasters pistols, rifles, swords, and weaponry they could get their hands on.

As his family scattered around like frightened animals, Qymaen was struck dumbfounded. He stood staring at the chaos around him, feeling the rumbling of hundreds of Huk soldiers and slavers coming toward his home. And much to his surprise, he could only think of one possible way out: run.

It was either run or die for him. Surely, he had no doubt about his father and mother's ability to hold off the invaders, but he wouldn't last a second in the crossfire. Summoning all the might his young frame could muster, he tossed a chair through a window a few feet off the ground, creating an escape route for him and his siblings. "Hurry, get out of here!" he shouted as they fled out the window. One by one he watched as his brothers and sisters fled into the rainforest. "And find a safe place to hide!" he screamed as the last one vanished into the bushes.

As he jumped out himself, he could hear the blaster fire and explosions behind him. He could hear the grotesque, wet, and rapid clicking of the Huk as they advanced. He could hear his older brothers and sisters screaming and shouting. And perhaps most haunting, he could hear the anguished screams of his parents as he retreated into the brush.

"I didn't have a choice," he said to himself as he sat alone under the tree. "I was going to die. Father always praised the honor of a tactical retreat." And the more the young Kaleesh convinced himself his actions were justified, the more he started to believe in them.

"Seems quiet," he thought after an hour or so of hiding. He looked scanned the area of the tree and could see no indication of any Huk in the area.

No sooner did he remove himself from his hiding spot, did two heavily armed Huk soldiers drop from the canopy above. They hit the ground with a loud crash. They struck out after him faster than he could even think, and before he even realized what was happening, one of them had him in his grasp, dangling the youth from his pincer.

As they brought him back toward their main camp, they continued on in their disgusting language. The clicking and squelching invoked fear and revulsion in Qymaen in equal measure. He knew the stories. He had no doubt he was about to either be executed or sold into slavery like the rest of his people. Despite knowing they wouldn't understand him, Qymaen uttered several of the vilest Kaleesh curses he could think of.

But even as one so young, Qymaen still had the blood of a warrior in him. "I will not die here," he thought to himself. "I have far too much left to do. I am the grandson of a damned god! I will not be sold like some livestock!" He darted his head around in a panic, looking for something, anything that would aid in his escape.

When all hope seemed lost, he saw a glimmer of sunlight reflect off the captor's belt: a blaster. He overextended his arm grasping at the weapon, reaching desperately to land at least one claw on the thing. He closed his eyes in desperation when he felt the sting of cold durasteel on his flesh. Success!

With a speed faster than he thought he was capable of, Qymaen pulled the weapon from the Huk's belt and fired away.

Three shots. Thud.

Another four shots. Thud.

As he stood in the forest, hovering over the bodies of his first kills, Qymaen couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with emotion. Pride, joy, and confidence all swelled within him. And as he heard his father running toward him in the brush, he knew instantly what he wanted:

More dead Huk.